By joudama
Author's notes: This is what happens when I start watching a new anime. A new
anime with a pretty character (God, I'm gonna to hell for that, 'cause he's,
like, *twelve*, and I *know* what twelve-year-old Japanese boys actually look
like) with some angst and some serious...obsession issues. Arrrrrrgh!
Anyway,
this is from Hikaru no Go. If you haven't seen it, this show is like crack.
Not crack like Marmalade Boy is crack, but crack nonetheless. I've only seen
the first twenty-odd episodes, so this takes place fairly early in the series,
before ep, what 17 or so, before Akira plays Sai on the internet. Hell, it might
take place before he plays Hikaru in the tournament in ep 13 or so. Whatever.
It's in the series, no exact point.
Anyway,
this, like everything I write, is inspired by music, this by "Bring Me
to Life" by Evanescence. Thank you, Hth/Betty Plotnic for clueing me into
the Linkin Park fronted by Sarah McWhazzerbucket.
And the ubiquitous legal shit--don't own 'em, good I don't.
You.
You are the stone in my path. You are the obstacle in my path, the one thing
that makes my way uncertain.
I had always known. I have always walked straight ahead, not looking back, towards
my goal. Towards my father. He alone was my goal--the only target worthy of aiming for. I played him every day, I knew how strong he was. And every day
I could see myself becoming stronger. Step by step, walking towards my goal.
One day, I would be his equal.
One day, I would be his better.
One day, I would be more than his son.
Father sought the Move of God, and I am seeking it, too. Because I have to find
it. I have to find it before he does, in my own way. It is the only way to step
out of his shadow.
And
I see it. I see it in you. And I hate that. I hate you, I...I fucking hate you.
You and your "I guess I'll win a few tournaments," that smugness.
And I hate that...that...that you have the *right* to be smug. You have the
right. You beat me. You...you beat me, with your hands that can barely hold
a stone.
How did you beat me? *How*? How did...a child, a stupid, stupid, *child* like
you beat me? What is it in you? What is that guides your clumsy hands? What
chose *you*? You, a loud, obnoxious, undisciplined, un--un-*everything* little...little
brat?!
I'm...I'm terrified of you. I hate you, and I'm, terrified of you, because there
is...something. Something, I don't know what. Something that chose you. I can
see the Move of God in you, and it *terrifies* me. Playing against it...I'm
not ready, I'm not, you showed me I'm not, and playing you...playing you....that
match against you makes me think I never will be. And if I'm not ready, if I
never will be...if my father finds it, and I'm not ready...
I can't back away from you. I can't run away from you. I won't run away from
you. I will learn what it is that guides you, I will find the Move of God that's
somewhere inside you.
But you are not my target.
You are not my goal.
You are my prey.